


settling

by kiyala



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-25
Updated: 2012-11-25
Packaged: 2017-11-19 12:03:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/573072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiyala/pseuds/kiyala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Since returning to MI6, Bond has not bothered to get a permanent place to stay. Q decides to change that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	settling

**Author's Note:**

> written for the [Mission 00Q](http://qbond.tumblr.com/post/36376490404/mission00q) prompt "hotel rooms"

Bond doesn’t get a new flat when he returns to London. His belongings remain in storage, only brought out when they’re needed, and he stays in hotel rooms. He moves between them often enough that he doesn’t really get noticed.

Q is only paying attention because Bond is _his_ field agent and that makes Bond _his_ problem. Bond hasn’t really settled since coming back to MI6 and Q is not an idiot. He knows that a lot of it has to do with losing M. Everyone at MI6 knows that Bond had seen M as a maternal figure, even if none are foolish enough to _say_ it. Just as they know that while M had never openly admitted to being partial to Bond, she was.

When he’s at MI6, Bond is focused on his work. He is blank-faced and composed, and perhaps Q is only imagining things, perhaps he’s seeing what he _wants_ to see because it makes Bond more of a man and less of the _myth_ that had hung heavy in the air when Q had first been promoted to Q branch. Either way, Q can see that Bond is lost. He sees it in the way Bond walks, nowhere near as purposeful and determined as he is at work. Q watches through the hotel security footage at first, and when that doesn’t quite feel like enough, he watches from the lobby of whichever hotel Bond is in. He goes unnoticed by the hotel staff, sitting at a table with his laptop, but it takes Bond no time at all. Q glances over the top of his laptop as the lift doors ping, to find Bond watching him. Neither of them look away until the doors close. Q goes back to work on his laptop for a while longer, then leaves.

Bond doesn’t mention it when he sees Q at work. Q doesn’t either; he goes to Bond’s next hotel of choice that night, sitting at the bar this time. Bond sits a few seats down from him, drinking his martini and then leaving, sparing nothing more than a brief glance in Q’s direction as he walks past. Q’s fingers curl around the glass of scotch that he hasn’t really touched, and takes a deep breath.

He doesn’t know what he’s doing here; he hasn’t thought it out anywhere near as much as he plans everything else that he does. Perhaps he’s just waiting. Perhaps it’s some strange game that Q is yet to learn the rules of.

Either way, he doesn’t stop. He’s there the next day, and the next, and three days later, Q is standing in front of a painting, pretending to examine it, when Bond sidles up beside him, hands in his pockets.

“I’ve seen better,” Bond says at length.

Q turns to him, still waiting, unsure of what to expect.

With a sigh, Bond nods in the direction of the lifts. “You might as well come up.”

Bond’s hotel room is unremarkable. There’s a sofa, a television, a small table and a single bed. Bond takes his jacket off, sliding the wardrobe door open and hanging it up inside. Q sets his laptop bag down on the table, unsure of whether or not to sit.

“Keeping an eye on me, hm?” Bond asks, undoing his cufflinks. “Did M send you?”

“Yes and no,” Q replies. He clears his throat. “M didn’t send me.”

“So _you’re_ checking up on me then,” Bond says with a small hum. “Not enough work to do, over at Q branch?”

“Oh, there’s plenty to do,” Q tells him. “New equipment takes quite a bit of time, you know. It doesn’t particularly help when our field agents lose what they’re given.”

Bond gives him an amused look. “I was wondering when you’d mention that.”

“I’m here,” Q says, realising it as he speaks, “because you worry me.”

Bond raises an eyebrow. “Is that so.”

“It reflects badly on me when my field agents don’t perform well.”

All traces of amusement disappear from Bond’s expression. “I perform perfectly well.”

“For now,” Q allows. “Forgive me for thinking long-term.”

“And what does that mean?” Bond asks.

“It means,” Q tells him, “that I’m rather hoping that you stick around for a while. Which you’re more likely to do if you’re more… settled.”

“ _Settled_ ,” Bond repeats, as if the word offends him.

“I think that you could do with some consistency right now, 007. Moving between hotels isn’t going to help with that.”

“And I suppose you have a solution.”

“I might.” Taking his laptop out, Q opens it and brings up a webpage.

“You’ve been flat-hunting for me,” Bond says incredulously.

“Well I asked Tanner for help and he told me I was on my own.” Q shrugs. “I thought…”

“This one.” Bond taps the screen, leaving a fingerprint over the first thumbnail. Q doesn’t snap at him for it, but it’s a close thing.

“You’ll take a look at this one?”

“I’ll _take_ it,” Bond replies, not even looking up.

“What? But don’t you want to—”

“I thought you wanted me to _settle down_.”

“Yes, well…” Q sighs. “Fine.”

“You’ll take care of everything, then,” Bond says, loosening his tie. It’s not even a question. Q is beginning to see why Tanner left him to it.

He makes the necessary arrangements, gets the paperwork signed and sent over, and drops the key off at Bond’s latest hotel room of choice. He turns, ready to leave, when Bond blocks the door.

“007,” Q says, in a patient tone that he never thought he would have to use on a double-oh agent before meeting James Bond.

“So you’re in a rush to leave now?” Bond asks, the corner of his mouth curving upward.

“I’ve… done what I intended to do. You have an flat to move into. No need to impose any further.”

“You’ve been at every single one of my hotels,” Bond tells him, “every single night, for nearly two weeks now.”

“Well, when you put it like that…” Q begins, and then pauses.

When Bond puts it like that, it sounds exactly like what Q has been trying _not_ to think since… since the art gallery, really.

“You said it yourself,” Bond says with a light shrug. “I could do with some consistency.”

Q exhales quietly. “Right.”

He stays.


End file.
